


Your Patience

by Cloud9Dreamer



Series: Patience [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Insecure Derek, M/M, Magic, Nightmares, Wolf Derek, he'll be talking soon enough i'm sure, stiles is of age by now, writing a basically mute character is difficult!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-05-31 11:39:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15118634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloud9Dreamer/pseuds/Cloud9Dreamer
Summary: Derek has lost everything. His family, his childhood house, his Pack, his self-worth, just...everything. So he goes to the only person that make him feel safe: Stiles Stilinski. Stiles takes him in, no questions asked, and Derek starts to remember what it feels like to be wanted and cared for again, to have a family again.(One of you asked for "Patience" from Derek's POV and I couldn't resist!)Can be read as a stand alone, but is sort of a prequel to "Patience", but also with snippets of things in-between chapters of that.





	1. Dreams and Nightmares

I didn't mean to suddenly become a house pet. It just...sort of happened. After...After everything, I just couldn't cope. The thought of going back to the loft, where nothing but terrible, lonely memories are, was enough to make me feel like crying. I didn't want to think about monthly payments and the broken windows and noisy neighbours. I just...wanted everything to go away for a while. I didn't care how long. Shifting fully into a wolf is like taking off my skin and leaving just the Wolf. I don't have to worry about getting groceries, wearing clothes, or trying to act normal around the Pack. Honestly, I wanted to avoid them as much as possible. I've been nothing but a disappointment to them from the beginning, unable to protect them from my past. My Betas are gone. Two dead -one by my hand, no matter what Stiles and Scott say-, and another having moved to France with Argent. I'll never regret kicking him out to save his life, but nothing will make me feel worse than the look of utter fear and heartbreak on his face when I threw something at him. I'm forever grateful that Scott and his mom took him in, that Isaac is now part of Scott's Pack...instead of my nonexistant one.

Alone again. I was left running around in the woods, hunting rabbits and squirrels, sleeping in the remnents of the old Hale mansion. I don't think the burnt smell will ever go away. I was surviving, but I was...completely unhappy. Checking in on the Pack was all that I lived for. Scott was always either at work, school, or with Kira. Liam is either seeing his therapist or at school or lacrosse practice. Despite the things that have happened to them, they seem to just go about their lives like normal.

But Stiles...Stiles has nightmares almost every night. He wakes up screaming, covered in sweat and sometimes urine if he's that scared. He's a wreck whenever I spot him outside, though he puts on a smile for Scott and the others.

The first night I barked at him to open his window, he took one look down at me and let me in the front door. "Was worried about you, dude," he'd said as he led me up to his room. "Didn't know where you went. I was scared you were..." He'd taken a shaky breath and crouched down, hugging me and crying quietly into my fur.

There was no way I could just leave him after that. Throughout the day, I check on everyone and patrol the town, though there hasn't been a sign of a threat for some time. And when Stiles gets out of school, I'm there in his room, ready for a hug and scratch on the head. I'll watch him do his homework, nudging him back to his desk when he gets up to do something else. Then we'll have dinner -and I no longer care that he bought me dog food bowls-, the two of us and his dad, if the Sheriff is off that night, sit in the living room and watch crime shows before going to bed. I used to sleep on the floor, ready to protect Stiles from any threat. But the only threat here is his nightmares. As soon as I hear his heart start to race, I lick at his arm or his face until he either settles back to sleep or wakes up.

On nights when he can't settle back down, I lay my paws and head on his chest and let him talk about whatever he wants until he passes out again. It helps me relax, too, to feel his heart and breathing slow into deep sleep. It helps soothe my nightmares, too.

 

I've already missed Stiles' eighteenth birthday. Even in July, he teases me about getting him a "werewolf present". "Seriously, you could gimme some kinda talisman or something. Nothing possessed, though, obviously," he jokes. He's fresh from the shower, completely uncaring as he dries off and dresses in his pajamas right in front of me. He's filled out a lot since we first met. From gangly and scrawny to tall and lean. His arms look bigger, and he doesn't hide himself under layers of flannel and graphic tees now. He's definitely gotten older.

"You probably have all kinds of cool shit in that safe, don't you?" he goes on, now flopping onto the bed and draping his body over my back, nuzzling his face between my shoulderblades. If I was a cat, I'd be purring like a motorboat. "Do you have, like, old pictures in there? Like, as a baby? Baby werewolf pictures? I'll bet you do. I'll bet your family was really into taking pictures."

One thing I really like about our arrangement is that I never have to talk back. He talks enough for the two of us, and doesn't expect a human answer. Still, I huff to show I'm listening, even though I'm so comfortable I could easily fall asleep.

"I wish I coulda met your mom," he suddenly says. "I mean, do you think our moms knew each other at some point? Book club or high school or something? How crazy would that be? Like Fate or something."

My mom never really mentioned her friends. Family and Pack were the most important things to her, and she did her best to keep us safe and happy. It wouldn't surprise me if she knew Mrs Stilinski, though. She did know everyone in town.

"Scott and Kira are so in love," Stiles says. "It's kinda sickening, y'know? Kira's ok, but Scott practically shoves it in my face how happy and in love he is. Kinda makes me wanna punch him in the face. But he's my bro, I can't just be mad that he's happier than I am."

I turn my head to lick at his neck. He has every right to be unhappy. If anyone knows my pain, it's him. But I've never been possessed and forced to kill if I so much as took a nap. Stiles didn't deserve any of that, and it hurts to see him still suffering.

"Yeah, I know," he sighs, scratching behind my ear. "And, like, I know you're here 'cause you worry about me, and I really appreciate that. You and Dad are the only ones who seem to care that I'm doing pretty bad. And...having you here helps. I felt bad that Dad was trying to work all day so he'd be here at night to calm me down after a nightmare. But now he can sleep through the night 'cause you're here. And I guess I understand people who have service dogs and stuff like that. It's really nice to have you here. I wish I could take you with me to school. But we'd have to go through paperwork and the fact that you definitely LOOK like a wolf, and that just sounds like too much work."

His dad had mentioned me going to school with him, keeping him focused, calming him down if he had a panic attack, making sure people give him space. But, yeah, it would require a lot of paperwork and authorization. Maybe I can at least meet Stiles at his Jeep when he gets out of class at the end of the day.

 

So that's what I start doing; waiting patiently at the Jeep until school is out. The other students just think I'm a stray that likes Stiles for some reason. But Scott and the others recognize me. Scott and Kira are nice enough, patting my head and telling me they're glad I'm doing all right. Scott thanks me for watching over Stiles. Even though he's not my Alpha, the pride still fills me up from his approval.

 

Around three in the morning, Stiles' heart rate suddenly starts to pick up, his hands gripping the sheets as he starts to breathe harder. I nudge my nose against his face and make soft noises to slowly wake him up. But tonight is a bad night it seems, for he lets out a shout as he jerks upright, gasping for breath and covered in sweat.

I lick at his cheek and ear, grumbling softly as he realizes he's awake and wraps his arms around me, burying his face in my neck. "I can't keep this up," he whispers. "I can't- I can't sleep more than a few hours, Derek. I'm losing it all over again! Something'll attack me and take over again or the Nogitsune'll come back and-!"

I bite very gently against his shoulder, stopping him before he starts hyperventilating. I wish I could hold him, kiss his forehead, tell him he's safe now. But that would mean I wouldn't be this comforting to him anymore, and I can't risk losing this.

But he's right, he can't keep this up. I need to do something more to help him.

 

The next day when Stiles goes to school, yawning and pale and reeking of exhaustion, I go to Deaton's, pawing at the back door until he lets me in. "Didn't expect to see you here, Derek," he says, immediately recognizing me. "Is there something I can do for you?"

I can't talk to him like this, so I quickly shift back to my human form. "I need something to help Stiles sleep," I say. "He has terrible nightmares every night. He falls asleep quickly, but can't stay asleep. He's paranoid and anxious all the time. He needs to SLEEP."

Deaton, thankfully, nods his head. "I was hoping he'd come to me himself if he wasn't handling things. But I'm glad he has you to help," he smiles, then goes to gather some things. I watch as he cuts up sweet-smelling herbs and puts them and some pale crystals into a small, black pouch. "Leave this in the sun during the day, then put it under his pillow at night. It should send him into a sleep so deep that he won't even dream."

I thank him earnestly before I shift back and head back to Stiles' house. I set the pouch on his windowsill so the sun shines on it, really hoping that it works.

That night, while Stiles is using the bathroom, I put the pouch under his pillow and wait for him on the bed. He shuffles back into the bedroom, rubbing his eyes and yawning wide. "Thank GOD tomorrow is Saturday," he sighs as he flops down onto the bed...and promptly passes out. I tug the blanket up over him and rest my head on his chest. His heart is nice and slow, and hopefully will stay that way all night.

Please work. Please, just let him sleep. Let him rest for once.

 

When I wake up around eight-thirty the next morning, Stiles is still asleep. Slow breathing, slow heartbeat. He's completely out. Thank God. A full night's sleep. He needs this all the time.

John softly knocks on the door before cracking it open and looking inside. He actually sighs in relief when he sees Stiles still sleeping. "Good night, then?" he asks me, sighing again when I nod my head. "Good. God, he needs the rest. Thanks for watching over him, Derek. I'll make breakfast when he wakes up. But let's let him sleep a little longer."

Being around John is nice. After learning the truth about all the supernatural things that have happened in town, he's been much more accepting of me being around his son, especially after the Nogitsune. He calls me "son", which does nothing but make me feel warm inside. It's...It's like having a father again.

John and I are watching TV when Stiles zombie walks down the stairs. "It's almost noon, kiddo," John tells him with a happy smile.

Stiles makes a soft noise and moves over to sit down in-between us, leaning on his dad's side. "Slept like a rock," he mumbles. "Still tired."

"You should go to bed early tonight," John suggests, which I agree with.

"Yeah. I'll...I'll probably do that," Stiles yawns, looking five seconds from falling back asleep.

John chuckles and gently shakes him back awake. "Derek. Keep this boy awake while I go make lunch."

I get up and lick at Stiles' face, tasting the remnants of sleep on his skin. He just smiles and scratches at my head. "Yeah, yeah, I'm awake, bud. Nice to see you, too. Probably got bored with just my dad, huh? Wait, no, you guys were watching crime shows. Rude. I wanna watch, too. What's going on? Serial killer? Kidnapper?"

I just huff and rest my head on his lap. Sometimes just hearing his voice is enough to...make me feel safe. It's enough. It's...God, it's more than enough. And when he puts his hand on my head and scratches behind my ears, I almost wish I could purr to show how nice it feels when he touches me so softly. It's been so long since I've been touched nicely.


	2. Enough

I still remember the first night I showed up and Stiles was having a nightmare. I'd just finished checking the perimeter and was making my way to his house, ready to settle down beside his bed and fall asleep with his scent all around me. I'd expected the window to be open for me, but I hadn't expected to smell his fear from halfway across town. I didn't care about if anyone saw me, I just sprinted to his house and jumped through the window as soon as I heard him shouting, ready to tear apart anyone who was hurting him. John was already there, holding Stiles and keeping him from hurting himself as he thrashed in his sleep. I'd jumped onto the bed and licked and nosed at Stiles, begging and whining for him to wake up, to settle down. It was only when he broke down sobbing that I realized he was having a nightmare. A nightmare no doubt about the Nogitsune and the...the people he'd killed while he was possessed. I was grateful I was a wolf, so he couldn't tell how ashamed I was that I hadn't noticed before he was too weak to take care of himself, that I still didn't know how bad he was doing. That night on, I vowed to be with him whenever he went to sleep, to calm him down, to just...be there for him. To make up for all the moments when I wasn't.

It's been months, and my hypervigilance has decreased to the point that I mostly stay at Stiles' house most of the time. Either he's there, and I'm always by his side, or John is there, and he...Well, John started out treating me like I was a dog that Stiles brought home off the streets. He...gave me a lot of space. But, after that night when Stiles had the nightmare, he started treating me as I am: a lonely man who just happens to be able to change into a wolf, too. When he first patted my head and called me "son", whether it was intentional or not, I stuck to him like glue the rest of the day.

It was hard not to get attached to John, especially after we'd saved him from being a sacrifice. Seeing Stiles cry over the thought of losing him, finally finding him and making sure he was safe, even after he ended up in the hospital and it was impossible not to feel sypmathetic for Stiles...They're all each other has. And I just...shoved myself into their unit, but they've accepted me. John doesn't often cook, but when he does, he gives me the best parts of meat first, even when Stiles tries to argue that he'll make me fat. When John has a day off, we relax on the couch and watch boring daytime TV until Stiles gets home from practice or school. Sometimes he asks if I want to go to the park with him, just to go on a walk. That was when we got the collar and the leash -but with Stiles' information on the tag. Last thing any of us want is for me to get taken in by animal control -although I'm sure Stiles would find a way to get me out immediately.

I learn a lot about the Stilinski's through my walks with John. He tells me about his wife, Stiles' mom. How much he loved her, how distraught he was when she got sick and passed away. How Stiles, at such a young age, was with her when she died. How TERRIFIED John was when everything started going downhill for Stiles, getting hurt and disappearing so often. I wish I could apologize. Everything...Everything has been my fault. Kate was my fault, Peter was my fault, the Alphas, the Darach, the Nogitsune possessing Stiles...Just, everything is my fault. I'll never be able to make things all right again. Everything that's happened to Stiles these past few years is all because of me and my selfish ignorance. He saved my life far more than I saved his.

Maybe that's why I'm so desperate to help him now, with his nightmares and his anxiety. I want his last year of high school to be easy. I want him to go to college or whatever he wants to do afterwards. I want him to have a normal life now.

But who am I kidding? As long as I'm in his life, it'll never be "normal".

 

I leave for a while. Not for long. I know Stiles would probably go nuts if I just up and vanished for good. I just run off to the Preserve for a day or two, running around, hunting rabbits, sleeping in the burnt remnants of my old house. I think about Stiles...a lot. What he's doing at practice, at Scott's house, maybe even at Lydia's. Something about that thought makes me feel...I don't know. Angry? But why would I be angry? I don't harbor any bad feelings for Lydia anymore. She's helped us on more than one occasion. But, dammit, the thought of Stiles being with her makes me feel...awful. I knew he was attracted to her from the beginning. There was no other reason for him to be so overprotective of her. I'm honestly surprised he hasn't asked her out. Although, I suppose I've never seen any evidence that she likes him back. I'm sure she appreciates him and considers him a friend, but there's been no sign of her liking him back, or even being attracted to him.

But does Stiles know that? Does he still think about her? Does he still get aroused when he thinks of her? He sometimes kicks me out of his room so he can masturbate, but what does he think about? It just bugs me.

Jesus, Derek, you have no RIGHT to wonder about what he thinks about when he touches himself. Why the fuck would you care? You're not his...No, that's it. I'm not his ANYTHING. I don't even think I count as a friend. I've been nothing but a nuisance to him.

But...the fact that he lights up with happiness when he sees me, the fact that he lets me sleep on his bed with him, that he hugs me after a long day or a nightmare, that he always checks on me and makes sure I'm eating and drinking enough...What is this? What is it that we're doing? It can't be as simple as him treating me like a dog. He knows me too well. And he talks to me...well, not like normal, but not like you would with a dog. He talks to me...like he trusts me. And, dammit, of course I trust him, too.

Isn't that enough?

I head back to the house and jump up through his window, finding him getting into bed for the night. But as soon as I'm in the room, he rushes over and gets down to hug me. "Christ, Derek! Don't do that! Dad said he hadn't seen you all day and you don't have a phone and I was freaking out that you were dying in the woods or something!"

Stupid tail. Stop moving. I lick at his face and try to make comforting noises. 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I never want to scare you. I want to make you so happy. Please let me make you happy.'

Please let me be enough.

 

School can be rough for Stiles. So many bad things have happened in that high school, it doesn't surprise me that sometimes, he gets triggered into a panic attack. Whenever that happens, I find myself drawn to the school. I wait outside for Stiles to come out and search for me. He'll get down and hug me, and I'll lick at his face and neck and try to calm him down. I don't know what else to do. I want him to feel safe at school again. I want him to finish his education and move on to college, or whatever else he wants to do. I want to see him succeed. It's unfair that he doesn't feel safe in his hometown anymore.

Though I suppose I don't feel safe here anymore either. I wish I could take us away from here. Get us a new apartment or something, far away enough to be comfortable, but not enough to no longer be close to John and Scott. It honesly sounds perfect. But Stiles isn't ready to leave yet. He needs to finish his senior year, then...come up with a plan for what to do after.

 

"Scott thinks you're running away from your problems," Stiles tells me when he comes home from school. My stomach twists a little at the thought of Scott being disappointed in me. Younger than me or not, he's the town Alpha now. "It's fine," Stiles goes on, reaching over to scratch my head. "You've gone through a fuckton of bullshit. I don't blame you for taking time for yourself. You deserve it. And I'm...actually really glad you came to me. So I can take care of you while you recover. It doesn't bother me at all, by the way, that you're chilling here. I like taking care of you."

Not for the first time since I've been here, I wish I could talk to him. But I just...don't know what to say. That I consider him family? That I'm proud of him? Even just thanking him for letting me stay here when I felt like I had nowhere else to go? But it feels like it just wouldn't mean enough to say it out loud. Maybe I'm just too scared of messing this up. To make him feel safe and happy like this is enough for me.

 

Stiles' favourite thing to do with me as a wolf is to give me a bath. I'm fully capable of bathing myself, of course, but it feels good to be groomed by someone else again. Stiles will get me in the tub donning his swimming trunks as he starts the water. He'll talk about random things, from school to Scott to Lydia to John and anything else he can think of; all while scrubbing me down with dog shampoo. It smells like mint, but it's not so bad. It's always worth shaking off and making Stiles laugh when I get him all wet. For some reason, he now owns a blowdryer. His hair HAS been getting long, but he only seems to use it on me after a bath. Once I'm clean and dry, he'll put my collar back on.

Something about wearing the collar most of the time makes me feel good. Not necessarily like I'm being turned into a house pet, but like I have a symbol of being part of Stiles' little pack made up of him and John. I have his name around my neck, showing anyone that I'm his. His claim on me, just like mine on him when I scent him before he goes off to school.

Jesus, this is dangerous. I'm getting way too attached. Before I know it, something terrible will happen and he'll be taken from me just like everyone else. I can't lose him. Not him, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tiny snippets of Derek's insecurities and worries over Stiles, plus a little fluff. if anyone has any ideas they'd like me to write out, feel free to leave a comment! I look at them all


	3. Thanksgiving and Pictures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know it's been a long time. It's hard for me to keep interest in things for a long time. I just wanted to throw this out there for now. Hope you like a short one!

John and Stiles both decide to start seeing a therapist, both for the death of Stiles' mom and everything that's happened the last few years. Stiles highly suggests I go to therapy, too, but I'm not sure. What could a therapist help me with? All the guilt from all the times I've seriously messed up in my life? From getting my family killed to getting my Pack killed and estranged? What could a therapist tell me that would help ease the pain in my chest?

 

Stiles takes me with him to see his new therapist. Apparently, she's a witch who knows all about everything that's happened with the Nemeton and all the supernatural evils it brought to Beacon Hills. Stiles reeks of nerves. He's never seen a therapist before, so he asked me to come with him. I feel more like an emotional service dog now, but it's still fine. Whatever he needs me to be, I'll be.

I'm surprised to see the woman from the park a while ago come out to the lobby to get us. "Well, well, well, look who it is."

I get up and go over to her, now realizing that the weird nature scent I got from her before was because of her being a witch. And it feels good to get pets from someone nice. Don't judge me.

Stiles and I follow her to her office, and I sit on the floor beside Stiles' legs, within easy reach if he needs me. Dr Ramsey asks about Stiles' nickname, and assures him that I can stay here with him during the session. Then she tells him he can talk about whatever he want, and Stiles just starts talking about everything. The Nemeton, the Darach, the sacrifices, almost losing his dad, the nightmares from the Nogitsune possession. Everything he can fit into an hour. And Dr Ramsey nods and takes notes, never once telling him to stop talking or move onto something else. She talks in a soft, warm, motherly tone. It reminds me of my mom, that certain tone women get when they want to assure you that you're all right. Dr Ramsey tells Stiles firmly that nothing was his fault, and that, through their sessions, she'll work with him to help resolve his guilt, as well as give him any alternative remedies that might help if his actual antidepressant and anti-anxiety medications don't seem to work well enough. He's been off the Adderall for some time now; now he's on a more adult dosage of something else for his ADHD.

By the time Stiles and I are heading back to the Jeep, he smells much more relaxed, and he sighs when we get into the car. "That...actually went really well," he says. "I mean...I didn't feel like she was pressuring me to talk. And she didn't interrupt me or say something I already knew. She didn't give me empty advice." He looks over at me, and I lean in to press my nose to his cheek. He chuckles and scratches the top of my head. "Think you'll come with me next week, bud?" I huff out a "yes". Whenever he needs me.

 

Thanksgiving is...chaotic. It's just Scott, Melissa, John, Stiles, and me all over at Scott's house. It's not a huge Pack ordeal, but it's still nice to walk around the house and smell all the delicious food Melissa and Scott are making. Seeing Scott again is nice, too, I suppose. He seems to have finally accepted that I'm not turning back any time soon, and he pats my head and talks to me just as normally as Stiles does. Though he's not MY Alpha, having his approval still feels good, settles some of my instincts as I lay at his feet in the kitchen. Melissa sneaks me pieces of bacon, but slaps Scott's hand when he tries to give me peanut butter.

I sit under the table with my head resting on Stiles' thigh and happily being handfed pieces of turkey and rolls. Everyone talks about school and work, homework and odd but normally odd things happening on John and Melissa's shifts. Normal things. No Nemeton, no werewolves, nothing. Just normal Thanksgiving topics, discussions and agreements on the things they're thankful for. If I doze off on Stiles' thigh with his hand petting my head, it's because everything is so calm and relaxed, the clink of silverware on plates and the soft laughter of close friends and family...Everything smells and feels so warm and soft, like...like "home".

Even when everyone moves to the living room to watch the football game, everyone just smells happy. Stiles falls asleep first, his arm draped over me on the couch and Scott slowly falling asleep leaning against him, too. John and Melissa just smile warmly at their sons, and I'm just glad that they all still have each other after these past hard years.

 

Stiles shows me pictures of his mom a few days after Thanksgiving. "She used to have so much hair," he smiles, showing me a picture of her holding him on his delivery day. "She was a big hippie. Liked organic food and essential oils and all that. She used to teach me all the different ways to use herbs and flowers like medicine. When I got diagnosed with ADHD, she only agreed to let me be put on meds because Dad convinced her that mint wouldn't be enough to make me focus," he chuckles.

He flips to another page, this one of him as a toddler running around in his underwear with his mom chasing after him. "She had so much energy back then," he says. "Dad'd get tired chasing me around, but she never did. And whenever she'd catch me, she'd blow raspberries on my stomach and pretended to eat me."

I don't remember ever seeing Stiles when he was little, or his mom. I'm sure MY mom probably knew her, since she knew everyone in town, but...I can just imagine Stiles growing up with me, running with us on full moons, starting food fights at the huge dinner table, growling at me when I made him mad. It would have been really fun. We would have been there when...

Stiles flips to another page, this one showing his mom's long hair gone, her face a little gaunt with weight loss. Stiles gently touches the picture before talking. "I didn't understand what was happening. She just told me she was sick and she had to cut her hair because it was helping her...'absorb the good energy of the world' or something. So she could get better. But...she never got better. She only...got worse."

I look up to see his smile shaky, his eyes filling with tears as he sniffles and keeps looking down at her picture. "I watched her get weaker and weaker all the time. Soon she had to...to stay in the hospital. And then she had to use a walker. And then she couldn't leave the bed. She looked...more and more like a skeleton. I..." He swallows thickly, a few tears running down his face. "I was scared to see her like that. She already looked DEAD and I..."

I rest my chin on his arm as he takes a shaky breath. "I was there...when she died," he breathes, his voice cracking on the last word. "I was there, holding her hand, going on and on about school and Scott. And she just...She squeezed my hand one last time and told me...told me 'good-bye'...then she just closed her eyes and...she was gone. I remember a bunch of nurses and doctors came rushing in. One of them pulled me out into the hall and stayed with me until Dad showed up. I just remember how he had to leave me out in the hall, too. And I could hear him...I could hear him crying in the room. He didn't come out for a long time, and when he did, he just picked me up and hugged me for a really long time."

I lift myself up and lick away his tears, trying to soothe him as best as I can. I know a little about what happened after that. John told me he started drinking and eating really unhealthy food because his wife wasn't around to stop him. He said some awful things to Stiles while he was drunk, but they've made up by now. They're all each other has, and I'm still just honoured to be included in their home, their family.

Stiles puts the album away and wraps his arms around me as he cries quietly. I'm such a coward. Unable to change back just to hug him properly, to tell him how much I care about him, how my mom would have loved him. I don't deserve his hugs, to look at pictures of his mom when they were happy. I don't deserve to be here, one of the few people he'll cry in front of. I'll never deserve to be this close to him.

**Author's Note:**

> You asked for it! And I shall deliver! Delve into Derek's mind during his time living with the Stilinskis in his wolf form! I'll also be including little moments from "Patience" in his POV. Please leave comments if you guys like it and want more! I'm also open to ideas you'd like to see me write out!


End file.
